


It Never Really Stopped

by pirate_cat



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Depression, Gen, M/M, Self-Harm, Slight Lucas/Farkle if you squint, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirate_cat/pseuds/pirate_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of Girl Meets Flaws. Farkle get's depressed but he realizes he has a good support group. TW for self harm and depression</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Never Really Stopped

Farkle never really told his friends the complete truth. 

The first day Billy made fun of him for his turtlenecks and being weird, it didn’t really get to him. Farkle was used to being called weird so it wasn’t anything unusual; he was proud to stand out. So he just went about the rest of his day normally. Of course he didn’t tell anyone, he didn’t think anything of it.

When it happened the next day, Farkle started to think. Maybe his turtlenecks were weird. He just decided to try and forget about it. It’s not like they were costing him friends--he had three great friends who liked him. Farkle let out a long sigh and could feel himself frowning, but other than that, he acted normally and no one thought anything of it.

By the sixth day, Farkle cried. He felt like it was such a stupid thing to cry over but he couldn’t help himself. He kept himself together for the remainder of the school day until he got into his room. He lied face down on the bed and started crying. He had to stay quiet because he didn’t want his parents to know. They’d probably tell him to man up. So he cried and cried until he fell asleep.

Farkle was still coming to class. It’s not like he sat next to Billy. Besides, they had class to focus on, Billy wouldn’t just call attention to himself. During class, he let his mind and eyes wander. He looked at Maya and Riley--they were so pretty when they were paying attention and not thinking anything of it. Then he looked over at Lucas. Farkle couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty he was. Farkle knew it was weird, but he’s only in seventh grade, he’ll figure things out with time.

Once social studies was over, Farkle had to go to the bathroom. He hates missing class time so he never goes during, but he practically bolted out of there his bladder was so filled. Once he was done, he came out to see Billy standing in front of him, his arms crossed.  
“Come on, Billy, can we please not do this? I just want to go to lunch,” Farkle sighed. He was so done with all of this, he didn’t want to get into it again.  
“Farkle, we haven’t even started yet,” Billy smiled, looking over towards the door. Just then, Farkle noticed two other guys from the baseball team guarding the door.   
“Please,” Farkle said, starting to feel tears at the corners of his eyes.  
Billy started walking closer, ignoring Farkle’s plead. “You know what I noticed in class today?” he asked, a gleam in his eye. “Other than the fact that you’re completely weird, you’re also a fag.”  
“Billy, just let me go,” Farkle demanded, starting to walk towards the door. Billy pushed him back against the stall, using his arm to keep him in place.  
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, fag,” Billy chuckled, spitting out the word. “I saw how you were looking at Lucas.” Billy started punching Farkle in the face until he just gave up. Billy let go of his arm, letting Farkle fall to the floor. “See you later,” he said, and next thing Farkle knew, Billy was gone so he started to cry.

After about ten to twenty minutes, Farkle stood up. He walked closer to the mirror to get a good look at himself. Bruises were forming and he was bleeding from his cheek and his lip. He walked out of the restroom to his locker and got his hoodie and his backpack, putting his hood up. He walked out the school doors when no one was looking and headed to the nearest convenience store. He walked into the makeup department, looking for something that’d be able to cover up his bruises. He got the cheapest one, hoping it would work, and started walking to the register, but he stopped and grabbed one of the small portable pencil sharpeners. He then continued on his way and bought both the items.

Once Farkle sneaked into his house, he went into the bathroom to try applying the make-up. He thought it looked pretty good and you couldn’t really notice it too much, so he washed it off. He went to his dad’s desk and grabbed a screwdriver, quickly going into his room. He took the pencil sharpener out of the bag and, all while trying to see through teary eyes, unscrewed the blade out. He took it in his hand, and held it against his wrist. He slowly dug into the skin and moved the blade across. He squeezed his fist and felt the blood coming out slowly. It felt good. Farkle felt he deserved this. Farkle made another mark before he decided he shouldn’t make it in a place so obvious. He took off his pants and decided to dig the blade into his thighs. He leaned back against his bed, loving the feeling of blood dripping out. After a few moments, he grabbed some tissues to clean himself up, got into his pajamas and cried into his pillow until he fell asleep.

Farkle got up for school and pretended everything was completely normal. Well, mostly normal. He showered, wincing in the pain from the hot water hitting his new cuts, put the make-up on over his bruises, then got dressed. He was still wearing a turtleneck because they made him feel happy. He gave his parents smiles and then went off for school. He didn’t plan to tell anyone. He couldn’t tell anyone. But he decided he wasn’t going to class. No way. He wasn’t going to risk it. He got there early, set up his desk, then went into the janitors closet, explaining only that he was being bullied.

Riley came and he couldn’t tell her. He just couldn’t. He kept rubbing his thighs--they still stung but he didn’t care. Thankfully, his make-up worked and she didn’t notice his bruises. He got all his work and he didn’t go to class. He felt better that way. As he was leaving though, he ran into Billy. Farkle tried avoiding eye contact, but Billy shoved him. “There’s people around, come on. Don’t do this.”  
“Fine, this is your lucky day,” Billy smiled and turned around and walked away.  
Farkle let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and started to walk home.

Once there, he cut again, smiling at the relief. He always wondered why people did this and now he understood. It did feel pretty good. He wiped up the blood and got ready for bed. He lied down, but no tears came. He fell asleep eventually, although it was weird to not be clutching his pillow.

The same thing happened the next day. His friends came into the closet. He ended up telling them he was being bullied, but he didn’t say who or what he did about it. Farkle knew that they cared, but he just couldn’t tell them. He promised he’d come to class the next day. But he didn’t.

Farkle was up on the rope. Billy outed himself. Lucas defended him. It was all a blur from there. He fell, thankfully the girls put mats there, and he thanked them. He felt better. He really did. And the next day in class he was there. They wrote their flaw on their foreheads so of course he wrote ‘NOTHING.’ That’s still what he felt he was. And Billy was being nice. He even wiped it away. And he admitted he was jealous. Farkle couldn’t believe it. Billy was jealous of him? Then why’d he beat him up? 

No matter what all his friends said, he still felt like nothing. He got his turtlenecks back and he was wearing them still, but he felt awful. His bruises were going away which was good, but Farkle actually got a look at his thighs. The cuts were deep. Some were really, really wide. He was surprised he wasn’t dead. “Maybe I’d be better off,” he muttered to himself. He was shocked. Did he really just say that? He didn’t want to die, he was only in seventh grade, his life wasn’t even half over. He decided to forget he said it and just went to bed.

He’s been going to class. Everything’s been fine. Billy stopped making fun of him. So why does he still feel worthless? It didn’t make sense. His life was fine, but he still cut. He still didn’t tell anyone, but ‘Maybe it’s time,’ he thought. ‘Maybe I should tell someone.’ So Farkle did what anyone would do--tell his most trusted adult. After class and after everyone left, he went up to Mr. Matthews. “Hey, uh, Mr. Matthews, can I talk to you?” Farkle asked nervously.  
“Yeah, of course,” Cory said, putting papers away in his bag.  
Farkle hesitated. “I think I need help,” he said, short and quick.  
Cory looked up at Farkle and furrowed his brow. “Help? You’re passing the class with flying colors, I don’t--”  
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Farkle said, cutting Cory off. “I need help.” Farkle was afraid he couldn’t get it out. He knew he needed help, but he was scared. Scared of what Mr. Matthews would think, scared about everything. “I’ve been...harming myself,” he got out. “For a while now.”  
Cory’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe it. Farkle always seemed so happy and jumpy. “So, do you want me to set up a meeting with the counselor?” he asked.  
Farkle shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe. Please don’t tell anyone. Especially not my parents.”  
“Farkle, I have to tell them.”  
“Please don’t.”

So Farkle saw the counselor every week during his study hall. He didn’t want to miss lunch because then Riley and Maya and Lucas could worry again. So he went during study hall. He talked all about how it started and he doesn’t know why he still does it but it just feels so good and he knows nothing is going wrong but he just can’t stop and it’s like he’s addicted but he goes on and on without even stopping to take a breath. He even mentioned how he thought he’d be better off dead. She said she has to tell his parents. He begs her not to. He promises to get better. She says if it continues through to next week she has to. She also says it’s most likely he has depression.  
So the next week comes by and she has to tell Farkle’s parents. If she doesn’t it could be dangerous to him. He begs and begs and begs, but she doesn’t take it. Farkle groans and picks up his bag and goes back to study hall. He knows there’s no stopping her, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

Stuart takes him to a professional therapist. Farkle tells them everything he told the school counselor. He does get diagnosed with depression and he thinks it’s so weird because he’s so young but he does. He wants Farkle to go on antidepressants, but he doesn’t really want to.

Farkle and Lucas have a sleepover the following Saturday. “Is everything okay?” Lucas asks.  
Farkle felt himself freeze for a bit before responding. “I don’t know what you mean. Of course.”  
“Farkle, I’m not stupid. I’m your best friend. You should just tell me before I squeeze it out of you,” he joked. “Please.”  
Farkle tried to change the subject, but Lucas wouldn’t have it. So Farkle told him, omitting a few details. “Wait, so why’d he beat you up?” Lucas asked, interrupting Farkle a bit. Lucas was so angry at Billy, he never knew any of this happened.  
“He called me a fag and thought I should be,” Farkle muttered. “So anyways..”  
Farkle hoped Lucas hadn’t heard it but he did, he just decided he’d comment on it later. Lucas wanted to hear the rest. “You have to tell Riley and Maya,” Lucas said simply.

So two weeks later, Farkle decided he should. He had Lucas by his side and they were all hanging out. “Hey, I have to tell you something.”  
“What is it, Farkle?” Riley asked with a smile. Neither of them expected to hear what they heard. Riley was on the brink of tears and Maya was sniffling. They both said that they never noticed and they felt so stupid for not seeing it.  
“No, don’t be. I tried to hide it,” Farkle admitted. “Your dad was the first to know.”

More and more weeks passed and Farkle tried to stop, but he just couldn’t. Every time the blade dug into his skin it got deeper and deeper and he started cutting everywhere he could. He stopped just on his thighs and started back on his wrists and went to his shoulders and his stomach and everywhere. He just hated himself and he didn’t know why.

Farkle yelled at his parents to stop taking him to the therapist. They agreed as long as he’d promise to get better. He lied and said he is getting better. They never lift his sleeves.

He ran out of places to cut so he had to start cutting over his old ones deeper and harder. Farkle felt himself getting drowsy so he shut his eyes and let the sleep come to him without cleaning up the blood. The last thing he heard was his phone ringing.

Farkle woke up where he fell asleep, seeing blood all over his thighs and his arms and the floor. He felt too weak to move, but he could grab his phone and look at it. He had two missed calls from Lucas, five texts from him, and some more from Riley and Maya.

They were all worried about him. Farkle didn’t respond but he decided to get cleaned up and make his parents believe he was happy. He said he was going over to Lucas’ and he was. He knocked on the door and thankfully Lucas opened it because Farkle pulled him into a hug. He didn’t need to say anything. Lucas just hugged him back.

After their very long hug, Lucas brought Farkle inside. “You look sick,” Lucas commented.  
Farkle shrugged. “Lost a lot of blood is all.”  
“Farkle, come on,” Lucas sighed. “I really care about you. You have to stop.”  
“You don’t think I’m trying?!” Farkle yelled. “I hate that I hate myself!”  
Lucas leaned in and kissed Farkle lightly on the cheek. “I think you should get more help,” he whispered. “I don’t want to find you dead with blood all over the floor.”  
Farkle blushed. “You won’t, I promise.” He couldn’t get over the fact that Lucas just kissed him. Maybe everything could be okay.

And everything was okay. They weren’t dating, really. They were just closer. Riley and Maya never said anything. They might not have noticed. And Farkle was happy. He wasn't smiling, but he was happy. He did still cut, but he just couldn’t stop. But he wasn’t going as deep.

A month later, Billy noticed. He cornered Farkle again. Again it was all a blur. He thought Billy was nice now and his was all done and over with. He started insulting him, he threw in a few punches. Farkle would have tried to fight back. But he didn't really care anymore.

Farkle ran home crying, not caring if his parents heard or saw. He took his razors out of his drawer, immediately rolling up his left sleeve and pierced his skin. He cut and cut and cut until he felt numb.

Farkle woke up, opening his eyes slowly. Then it hit him--he wasn't dead. Part of him felt disappointed, although he also felt relieved. He still had so much to live for. His eyes opened and focused on the three people next to his bed, all asleep. Of course, it was Lucas, Riley, and Maya. He assumed Mr. Matthews was outside.

His three friends were all sleeping lightly, way to worried to stay in a deep sleep. Farkle's slight stirring immediately wakened them in the quiet room. "Farkle!" Riley exclaimed, getting up to hug him, still sitting in the bed.  
"Hey," Farkle said to them. He noticed their cheeks and eyes were red, a sign of crying.   
He looked over at Lucas, and Lucas looked like new tears were starting to form. "Farkle, you promised," he whispered. "You promised. You said I wouldn't find you in a pool of your own blood."  
The memory made Farkle frown. He did remember that he promised that. "I said you wouldn't find me dead in my own blood," Farkle commented. "And you didn't."  
"Farkle, this is serious!"  
"I know, I'm sorry. It won't happen again," he sighed, looking down at his hands.  
"They're planning on keeping you for a few days," Maya said after a few moments of silence. "We all think it's for the best. Us, your parents, the doctors."  
Farkle nodded, still not making eye contact. "Okay. I'm sorry guys. I'm sorry I made you worry and I'm sorry this all happened and--"  
"Farkle, it's okay. We're here for you," Riley soothed. "Just try to not do that again."

A few days later, Farkle was released. He wasn't going to go to school because he couldn't handle that right now. Every day someone came to visit him, wanting to check up. Farkle was just laying on his bed listening to music. All sharp objects were removed from the house except for the staples and scissors and kitchen knives were kept in a locked drawer in Stuart's desk.

Farkle would try to be okay. He wanted to be okay.


End file.
